


changing of the tides

by speckledfeathers



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Background Relationships, Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Depression, Eddie Kaspbrak Has ADHD, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Everyone Is Alive, Gay Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Panic Attacks, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Resurrection, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Lives, but they come back to life, i didn't think to add that at first but lmao, it's worth it though!, lots of stuff about water, sorry folks, there's gonna be a bunch of internal monologue/introspection, well stan and richie die, yeah it's kinda slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledfeathers/pseuds/speckledfeathers
Summary: A story about imperfect people, how to handle second chances, learning to find yourself, and choosing love even when it's hard.orThe Reddie-centric AU where it's Richie who gets impaled during the final battle with Pennywise, and then he is resurrected. (And yes, Stan is back too.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Comments: 38
Kudos: 75





	1. this is where it ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw for chapter one : major character death, short mention of past suicidal ideation**
> 
> tags will be added as needed when each chapter comes out, and i will do my best to put tw in the notes at beginning of each chapter
> 
> this is an angsty story! lots of emotions. but i can promise you one thing: it'll have a happy ending
> 
> songs that i listened to while writing & inspired this fic include:
> 
>  _transatlanticism_ by death cab for cutie  
>  _cornfield chase_ from the interstellar soundtrack
> 
> **a huge thank you to everyone who read this chapter and encouraged me to continue with this story! i owe you guys a lot, and i cannot wait to share everything with the rest of the world!

_Beep beep, motherfucker?_

—yeah, that’s what had come to mind first.

Eddie wondered if that sounded as badass and petty as it had in his head, but for now there were much more important things to concern himself with.

Such as: Richie Tozier. Who just now hit the dirt after being released from his daze in the deadlights.

Eddie ran to him, shouting victory at the top of his lungs while being carried along by the incredible amount of adrenaline coursing through his system. Truthfully, nailing Pennywise where it hurt was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Maybe he could get used to that whole.. _being brave_ thing.

Maybe.

“Holy shit, I did it!” 

He stole glances at the screaming, writhing monster a few times before slowly lowering to his knees beside Richie, who was still completely stunned from his fall. But Eddie didn’t mind that he was out of it. Richie was okay, and he couldn’t help but smile as he placed both hands on the other man’s shoulders.

“Rich! Hey, you’re okay! You’re okay!” He sounded happy. Imagine that— here they were, fighting demons in the hellish sewers of Derry and Eddie was smiling so much it made the hole in his cheek burn with the tension, joy practically leaking out of his ears, all because Richie was safe. “I think I killed it! I really do!”

The moment Richie’s eyes met with his, still fogged over with confusion and brows tensed together, Eddie pulled him into a sitting position. He groaned, but Eddie steadied him with one hand gripping his arm and the other moving to his waist. Then he watched as Richie blinked, one two three times fast, and his confusion turned to awe. 

Richie was still incapable of words, but everything in him was screaming _you saved me, you fucking saved me._

And he couldn’t help it, not even if he tried— Richie lurched forward and, with his entire body still shaking and tired and dizzy, he wrapped Eddie in his arms. It was a gut reaction, an extremely emotional one and probably the most genuine thing he had done the last two days. Eddie didn’t hesitate to hug him right back. 

And all Richie could think was _holy shit, I love you so fucking much._

How easy it was for seconds to turn into millennia when the arms of the person you loved were wrapped around you. 

And yet— it would never be enough.

He saw it coming. Between the seconds when he lingered on the warmth of Eddie’s body pressed against his own, the grimy feel of the sweatshirt his fingers dug into, and the way Eddie was steady as a rock even though he was scared half to death— _he saw it coming._

It was another gut reaction that caused Richie to move. He didn’t hesitate. It was an easy decision— the _only_ decision. The only goddamn thing he was useful for.

He used every ounce of strength he had left to twist their bodies around and shove Eddie out of the way.

It all happened so fast. One second Richie was trembling and warm, hanging on to his best friend like he was the last thing left in the world. The next, he watched Eddie hit the ground _hard_ a few feet away from him as his own body went cold, then red hot right in the center of his chest.

He wanted to fall to his knees but found himself stuck, toes scraping the ground beneath him as he hung from the curved spear now sticking straight through him. His body begged to go limp, to fall forward, to do _something,_ but he was left gasping for air as blood began pooling in his mouth. It hurt. _Everything_ hurt, like his nerves had all been set on fire and then began fizzling out underneath his skin.

Richie’s eyes once again locked with Eddie’s. And he thought— _try and one up that, asshole._

Some horrible little part of him wanted to laugh, because he was dying and he was making jokes in his head and he was terrified, but he couldn’t.

Eddie was far from laughing. When Richie pushed him away he was ready to sit up and start berating him, confused and annoyed as to why the hell they went from hugging to shoving within half a second.

After harshly landing on his back, Eddie pushed himself up onto his elbows with a groan just in time to see Richie get impaled. 

Richie might not have screamed— but Eddie did.

 _ **“Rich!”**_ His voice broke when he said his name. Despair was coming out of him in waves as he covered his mouth in shock, mumbling nonsensical things and feeling like his own chest had been torn into.

Eddie scrambled to his knees and then his feet— feeling numb, feeling everything. When Pennywise yanked harshly back, laughing loud enough to cover the cries of their friends, Richie was set free and fell forward with a cry of pain.

Eddie managed to reach him just in time, catching him so he didn’t fall completely limp onto the ground between them. Their bodies hit each other and they both let out a huff as Richie slumped forward into him, arms hanging loose.

 _“Oooooooohhhh he’s fast one!”_ Pennywise was taunting them now. _“I almost gotcha there, Eds!”_

Their friends were running closer, screaming to get Pennywise’s attention. Their angry shouts overlapped with each other.

 _ **“Bastard!”**_ Ben.

 _“Get away from them!”_ Bill.

 **“Don’t touch them!”** And then Mike.

Eddie adjusted his grip on Richie, and the other man groaned in pain, still limp with his head pressed into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder when he opened his mouth. “God, this _sucks._ ” 

Eddie was glad to hear him say actual words, even if they were weak and barely audible. _Of course that’s what he would say immediately after getting stabbed. **Of course.**_

“Sorry.. ‘m probably getting blood on your shirt..”

Eddie was hyperventilating and crying, watching as Pennywise slowly got closer to the two of them, making those goofy noises that sent chills down his spine. He tried to pull them both back, terrified but determined.

Then It and Eddie locked eyes and he stood his ground. Pennywise hesitated, smile faltering for just a second, and it was enough for Ben to throw a rock at its head and get its attention.

Eddie silently thanked him for the distraction and then lifted Richie up off the ground. It was a strain, with Richie practically unconscious and Eddie’s limbs shaking, but there was nothing in the entire fucking universe that would stop him from getting Richie out of there.

There was a sort of cave off to the side that he headed towards, carefully moving as fast as he possibly could— all the while feeling the ground shake beneath his feet, and listening to the sounds of his friends screaming and rock being split apart as Pennywise tried to take them out just like it had Richie.

Once they made it inside they reached a set of uneven steps and he took them as slow as they could spare. By the time he felt it was okay to stop, Eddie was huffing, his shirt had been stained with Richie’s blood, and his knees were screaming at him to _please let up_ when he was setting Richie down. Then the two of them were alone in the damp darkness of relative safety.

Richie’s head slouched to the side, eyes trying their hardest to stay open, and Eddie felt his heart drop even further. “Rich? Hey—” One of his shaking hands moved to gently tip Richie’s face back to where it should be, so that they were looking at each other, and it seemed to wake him up a bit.

With the sudden breath Richie didn’t mean to take, his body was on fire again. His lungs shuddered as he tried to expand them and it sent him into a coughing fit, blood sputtering from his mouth, face tensed as the pain collided with his chest over and over again.

Eddie waited until it was over, feeling every cough send a shock of sympathy pain through him. The sound of the fight echoed in the larger chamber they had left behind and made his anxiety spike even higher than he thought possible. “Richie? C’mon, man, say something please. _Please._ ” It was stupid thing to ask. Eddie knew better than that— he knew that right now there were so many things he could be doing instead.

But part of him also knew that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Without waiting for an answer, Eddie told that voice to shut the hell up, and he took off the zippered hoodie he was wearing. It took a few seconds for him to carefully fold it, as neat as he could manage at the moment, before he pressed it to the still bleeding hole through his best friend’s chest. The pressure wasn’t much at first, but he slowly increased it until Richie let out a hiss of discomfort.

“Mmmm.. what’reyoudoing…” 

Not once in his entire life had slurred words made him so happy. It re-sparked something in him— that drive he had found earlier as he speared that fucking monster right through the skull— and it made him believe that maybe they would make it out of here.

“Saving your stupid life, dipshit.” Eddie leaned in as he answered.

Richie’s hand clumsily made its way over to lay on top of Eddie’s where it was pressed against him. Neither of them commented on it, but Eddie’s heart skipped a beat.

“They need you, Eds.” Less slurred this time, and when Eddie’s eyes broke away from their touching hands he saw that Richie was much more lucid. “You need to go.”

That spark was gone instantly, drowned in the wave of panic that pooled at the bottom of his stomach. Big brown eyes searched Richie’s tired, blood covered face for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not leaving you here.”

He swore he saw Richie smile, but it faded quickly as he let out a light scoff and shook his head. 

Eddie tried to memorize the specific blue of his eyes and felt his heart shatter. _This couldn’t be happening._

Richie debated joking about Eddie not being able to keep his hands off of him, but he kept it to himself. The time for shit like that had long passed. 

“You need to get out of here.” Richie repeated, stronger this time.

That sent Eddie over the edge. He started shaking his head violently no, refusing to dive any deeper into the implications of the other man’s suggestion. Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. Their friends were tough, they could manage.

“No, no—” He was angry now. Not at Richie (well, a little bit at Richie) but at the horrible hand the universe had decided to deal him. His brain was frantically trying to see if he had a move to make, one that ended with the two of them on their way to the hospital with Richie in the passenger seat. “You don’t get to just _do_ that and then sit here and tell me I need to fucking leave! That’s not how this works. I saved your life first, _I saved yours first!_ ”

Richie took in a strained breath, another almost smile making an appearance, and then he gave Eddie’s hand a gentle pat of reassurance. “Guess we’re even then.”

Without thinking, with his hands begging for something more tactile to keep themselves busy, Eddie moved Richie’s hand so it replaced his on top of the now blood soaked hoodie, and then took Richie’s glasses right off his face. He went to go clean them, but between the way they were cracked and the amount of blood and grime on his shirt, he was finding it difficult. “Fuck you, we’re not even. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Eds..”

“Don’t.”

“This.. this isn’t some stupid story, alright?” Richie’s voice was hoarse. “Not everything is gonna work out. Not everyone gets to walk away from this shit.”

“Shut up.” He refused to look at him as he scrubbed dirt off of Richie’s glasses with more dirt.

“No. You know what? _You_ shut up.”

Eddie froze, then looked up. Richie was clearly in pain, tears starting to trail clean streaks down his face from the corners of his eyes, but he was locked onto Eddie.

“You’re the goddamn hero, alright? _You’re the hero,_ you’re-you’re—” He stopped himself.

 _You’re **my** hero._ That’s what he wanted to say. 

“I’m not a fucking hero, Richie.” Eddie’s voice was low and sharp, almost threatening, but it was only because he was scared. “Don’t call me a hero. Like you said, this isn’t a stupid story.”

Richie groaned in pain. “Using my own words against me. Harsh.”

“Just shut up.” Eddie’s voice had softened, like he was holding back tears— which he was. He went back to his futile attempt to clean Richie’s glasses. _You’re going to be fine,_ Eddie thought to himself. _I just got you back, you’re going to be fine._

His attention was yanked away when the fight in the main cavern got suddenly closer, and Eddie could see and hear small shards of rock fling in all directions. They were screaming and screaming, not in pain but in distress. And then Bev appeared, hastily running down the stairs and stopping halfway, eyes wide.

 _“Eddie!”_ Her voice was rough and trembling, and as she called out his name she reached out a hand to beckon him to her. “We need you!”

“We need to get him out of here!” Eddie screamed back, motioning to Richie.

“I know Eds, I know—” She was getting choked up. “But if we want to help Richie we gotta stop It. We need you. We’re stronger together, remember?”

“See? What did I say?” Richie replied with another painful cough. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

The gears that turned in Eddie’s head were visible before he angrily spit out, “Are you seriously quoting fucking Star Trek at me right now?”

Bev interjected, not wanting them to argue. “Richie, save your energy.”

_“Yes, dear.”_

“Eddie, I just— we could use all the help we can get, okay? But I understand if you..” She glanced to Richie, and then back to Eddie with a knowing look. “..do what you think is best.” Then she left.

Eddie was shaking his head, pacing, and he absentmindedly pocketed Richie’s glasses instead of giving them back. “I can’t- I can’t just— _leave them._ But what the hell am I supposed to do? When I tried to kill it, it just— it got you!”

“That wasn’t your fault.” 

“I have to go out there, don’t I?”

“I think you do, Eddie.”

“What if—” His hands were wringing together. “What if I can’t—”

“You’ll think of something. I know you will.” Then another short coughing fit.

They locked eyes again. Eddie was scared. Richie was tired, and looking at Eddie made him feel calmer about what he knew was coming for him. They both knew what separating meant.

“I _will_ be back for you. I will.”

Richie smiled, and nodded once. “I know.”

Eddie nodded back, determination set harshly onto his features as he started to walk up the stairs. He didn’t break their eye contact until he was a step past him, but then Richie grabbed his hand and he looked back.

“What?” Eddie hoped he would ask him to stay.

Richie wished they had more time.

“Eds, I just..”

_This is the part of the story where you tell him you love him, idiot._

But this wasn’t a fucking fairytale.

“Don’t be too stupid out there, alright?”

Eddie gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re the stupid one, remember?” Then he pulled his hand away. “Now I have to go kill that fucking clown for you. I’ll be right back.”

Richie wanted to watch him go, but he was growing weaker by the second. He had kept his strength up for Eddie, trying his hardest to pretend he would be okay, and now that he was alone it was almost impossible to fight against the lightheaded daze his body beckoned him into.

He let his head fall back against the cold rock behind him and stared at the ceiling with his blurry vision, realizing now that Eddie had stolen his glasses, and thinking to himself that this somehow seemed fitting. The last clear image in his head was Eddie Kaspbrak promising to come back to him. He could live with that. He could live with that until he couldn’t any more.

At least the pain was subsiding along with everything else. Richie knew he was fading. This wasn’t exactly how he ever pictured going out, but there was one thing he felt was inevitable: that he was alone. And he wasn’t angry about it. Maybe a little bit bitter, a little bit regretful about pushing Eddie to go. But not angry. At least he had done something meaningful. At least Eddie was out there screaming at the top of his lungs and fighting the good fight. Eddie would make it out of here. Eddie was worth it. Eddie was worth _everything—_ he was even worth dying for.

Richie had no idea why, but at that very moment he burst out laughing. God, it hurt like hell, but he couldn’t stop. It was mostly just a series of wheezes that he tried to contain by pressing both hands over the gaping hole in his chest— but that did nothing to help. 

When the tears started to fall, the laughing didn’t stop at first, and he found himself suddenly caught up in a swirling mix of emotions that he couldn’t contain. He covered his face, even though there was no one left to hide from.

There was nothing funny about bleeding out in the sewers of the town you grew up in while five of your friends battled a shapeshifting demon, and the sixth sat in an early grave. Richie knew that. 

There was nothing funny about missing his last chance to tell the love of his life how much he had missed him, how much he loved him, and how much he wished he didn’t have to go. Richie knew that, too.

That’s why he was crying. Because for all the times Richie had felt lost and alone over the last 27 years, and for all the times he thought maybe it would be easier to cut it all short, he did not want to die. Especially not now. It was like he could hear Pennywise’s voice taunting him in his head: _be careful with what you wish for, Trashmouth!_

He cried until he couldn’t. The laughter faded and Richie found himself just wanting to.. sleep. _Maybe,_ he thought as he drifted off, _maybe a nap will fix things._

***

When Eddie made it to the entrance of the cave, things went to shit real fast. Pennywise was wildly moving about, chasing and taunting and laughing at his friends, and the moment he took a step out into the main cavern a giant spike-ended limb landed in the wall above his head.

 _“Fucking shit!”_ Eddie immediately moved to cover his head, feeling small pebbles and dust fall onto his now bare arms. When he looked up to assess the damage he saw the hole left behind and the cracks branching out from the center of it. He thought of Richie. And he let it all fill him with so much blind rage that he was willing to do something very, very stupid.

One of the first things he noticed was the metal rod sitting near the center, a good twenty feet away from him. Pennywise must have spit it out after Eddie threw it. 

Maybe he could get it to work this time.

_**“Hey!”** _

Eddie shouted loud enough that it made everything else in the cavern go still. And then he felt four sets of eyes on him as the rest of the Losers stared with fear and anticipation, using the moment to catch their breath.

The fifth set of eyes— big, yellow, and glaring— turned around to face him with a snicker just as he reached for the rod.

 _“That didn’t work so well last time.”_ It sneered. _“Little Eds, trying to be something he’s not. Ohoohoo, so brave.”_

Eddie’s grip tightened.

**“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”**

_“Oh yes you are. You’re afraid I’ll pick off all your friends, one by one, until you’re allllll alone.”_

_**“Fuck you!”**_ He took a heavy step forward, jutting up at It with the pointed end of the rod. “Remember when you found me at the pharmacy? Huh? Remember when I had my hands around your disgusting throat? I had you squirming! I can do it again, you son of a bitch!”

Eddie waited for Pennywise to lunge at him. He expected it, and a tiny part of him almost welcomed it.

But it never happened.

Mike instantly connected the dots— he rallied his friends together and they moved as Pennywise’s frustration level rose.

 _“I am the Eater of Worlds.”_ It said it more like it was reassuring itself, rather than threatening them. 

And when Mike, Ben, Bev, and Bill skidded to a halt behind Eddie— there was a shift.

“You’re nothing.” Eddie growled back. “And I’m gonna kill you for what you did to Richie.”

The floodgates had been opened. Some invisible cue light went off in their heads and from behind him, Eddie listened as the four other Losers started shouting at Pennywise so strongly it felt as if their voices would crack permanently. They kept at it— hurling insults, screaming profanity, and Eddie joined in with them.

Pennywise started to back up. For the first time in 27 years, they were making It afraid. Its fear made them stronger.

Eddie took a few jabs at Its pointed legs, never touching It but reveling in the fact that It jumped back whenever he got too close. He was angry and red in the face, letting all his grief lose upon the very thing that had created it.

Pennywise tried to fight back, twisting itself into things to get their blood pumping, but all five of them were on solid ground now. Especially since they had each other. Just like Mike said, just like Bev had reminded Eddie a few minutes ago— they were stronger together.

It began shrinking the farther they herded it back into the center of the cavern, winding themselves around the asymmetrical formations of rock that made up the semi-chamber It seemed to have a fondness for. Its transformations got slower, getting stuck midway like It was glitching.

Eddie narrowed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment to let his lungs attempt to catch up, before he decided it was time to make his next move.

A memory flashed through his mind: Richie Tozier at age 13 in ready position, grimy baseball bat steadied, fully prepared to come out swinging to protect his friends.

It made Eddie feel brave. 

So he gripped the metal rod in both hands, took two steps forward, and followed Richie’s lead.

_“Welcome back to the Losers Club, asshole!”_

The pointed end of the rod made contact with a now humanoid sized Pennywise and it sent the demon clown reeling backwards, screeching that otherworldly scream they all had thankfully forgotten over the decades. 

Eddie stopped in his tracks, panting and holding his weapon in a way so that he could swing again if needed.

The other Losers stopped behind him, also catching their breath. Bev and Bill were closest to him, each of them placing a hand on one of his arms or shoulders as they watched Pennywise scream in pain and anger.

Bev looked to Eddie and saw everything he was feeling etched onto his face. He was.. scary. But she would never be scared of him, because he was doing it to protect them. And she had never been more proud of him— or more sad _for_ him— than she was in this moment.

Eddie Kaspbrak would tear the world to pieces for them. And he would gladly watch the world burn to settle with his grief. 

Bev and Bill and Mike and Ben— they knew that. And now Pennywise knew it, too.

It shrank and shrank and shrank, shriveling down to a wrinkled mess. Blood from the slash was beading together in the air and floating softly towards the sky. And Eddie wasn’t even done yet.

He adjusted his grip and as he lunged forward, his friends began shouting again, creating a tidal wave that was powerful enough to finally— _finally—_ beat the shapeshifter into the dirt.

Eddie stabbed It this time, right through the center of its chest. Right where It had stabbed Richie.

He screamed until the rod went entirely through It and then he pushed down, pinning It against a slanted concrete surface behind it.

“That’s for Richie.” He hissed. Then he twisted the rod while it was still stuck in Its chest, causing It to scream even more. “And that’s for Stan.”

Pennywise tried to rear its evil little head one last time, bearing its array of pointed teeth and screeching in Eddie’s face. Eddie yelled right back, and It flattened back against the concrete with a whimper.

“Get up from that, you piece of shit.” One last _‘fuck you’_ right in its face.

The other four gathered around him, Mike taking his place on Eddie’s right. He took one last glance at the group and then drove the final nail into the coffin.

“You’re just a scared little clown. With a fragile, beating heart. And we aren’t afraid of you.”

Pennywise started to shake, trying to block Mike’s careful and steady hand as he reached down and pushed through its thin skin. Once he did, he pulled out exactly what he had described— a fragile, beating heart.

Eddie cringed at the sight of it, and as Pennywise started to cry out in a panic he yanked the bar out from its chest just to make it feel pain again.

Mike ushered them all together, had them place their hands on the heart, and then squeezed.

Eddie hated every second of it— the feel of it between his fingers, the sound of it as it cracked apart, the dark liquid that oozed out of it. But it meant Pennywise would die, so he kept his hand there along with everyone else’s until they heard the creature choke.

The floating was almost mesmerizing, as much as they all hated to think of it that way. The heart they had just crushed stayed in the air after they let go, pieces globbing together and then lazily moving up and up and up. All five of them watched it move, and then were drawn to Pennywise as its body did the exact same thing.

They did it. It was finally dead.

The chamber was eerily quiet after that. The only sounds were each of them panting and sighing in relief, letting out short sobs of shock as it sank in that they had actually done something totally insane and now it was over.

Bill and Mike collapsed into each other, foreheads touching and eyes closed. Ben and Bev clasped hands, their bodies pressed together shoulder to shoulder. And Eddie..

_“Richie.”_

The blood covered rod fell to the floor with a clang. And then Eddie was running.

The metallic ring came at the exact same time as their next big problem: the cistern was starting to collapse. As Eddie ran, his friends close behind, the cracking sounds started. It came like a wave— quiet at first, sneaking up on them, but by the time Eddie was close enough to look into the cave it had grown loud enough to start scaring them. 

Ben was last in line because he slowed down to take a look up and around them. And he didn’t like what he saw. “Guys..” The cracking sounds grew louder. “Guys! We have to move!”

“First we get Richie!” Eddie was ready to fling himself through the entrance when the collapse started.

Eddie watched it happen in slow motion. He was maybe twenty away, that was it, when the rock wall above the cave entrance snapped, the sound something akin to a clap of thunder after a lightning strike. The hole that Pennywise had punctured into it earlier split, the cracks growing larger like a star’s sunbeams.

“No..” Eddie ran faster. But not fast enough.

One last crack, and the entire wall came down, collapsing right over the opening that Eddie was heading towards. Where Richie was waiting for him.

_**“Richie!”** _

He was close enough that a few of the smaller pieces of rock came tumbling down near his feet. He stumbled over them, coughing through the cloud of dust that was expanding and settling around him and frantically running so he could throw himself on top of the rubble to start digging his way through it. 

_“No, no no, Richie! Hey, can you hear me?”_ Eddie was screaming loud enough that his throat burned, hands grasping around the large pieces of concrete separating him from his best friend and making no progress in moving them, as hard as he tried. “Rich! Hold on I’m coming to get you!”

The world was quite literally collapsing around him and Eddie didn’t care. He didn’t hear the rest of the cavern start to crack apart, and he didn’t hear his friends calling his name.

“Please, guys, you gotta help me! We gotta get Richie out of there!” All of his anger had been replaced by fear and desperation, voice breaking as he screamed, fingers starting to bleed as he dug his hands between the rocks and tried to pry them apart. “I can’t get these to move, I can’t— I—”

The cascading destruction shifted the ground beneath them and it sent some more pieces tumbling down the pile Eddie had started to climb. He didn’t notice, but his friends tried to warn him as they fell in behind him.

A smaller rock made contact with his skull and it knocked him back, vision going dark. His back met harshly with the ground and he was sent into a coughing fit after the air was completely knocked out of his lungs.

Before he could even think about getting back up, a pair of arms lifted him to his feet and started dragging him away.

Eddie’s head was still ringing and pounding, his thoughts a bit jumbled, but there was only one thing he cared about. He had left his heart behind that wall of rubble and they were taking him away from it.

 _“Stop!_ Stop, we can’t leave him!” Even though he was dizzy and the sky was literally falling, Eddie tried to wiggle his way out of Ben’s grip. But the other man wouldn’t budge.

“We can’t get to him, Eddie! We need to go!”

“I don’t fucking care, we can’t leave him! _I can’t leave him!_ I promised him I would get him out here!” His screams only got worse, more desperate as the collapsed cave entrance became farther and farther out of his reach. Eventually his screams turned into sobs. “I said I would go back for him, I—”

The sound of the cistern breaking apart almost drowned him out. As they ran and climbed, it only got worse. The other four were shouting at each other, making sure they stayed together, watching out for each other as they jumped into the water. Eddie almost swam back, but Ben (ever so stubborn) grabbed his arm, yanked him back, and continued to drag him along. 

Eddie exited the house on Neibolt Street kicking and screaming.

Ben had him in his arms as the old house took one last shaking breath and then folded in on itself, sinking into the ground, almost like it had never been there at all.

_“Put me down! Let me go!”_

Ben, who had been patient with Eddie’s writhing, finally obliged.

Once Eddie’s feet hit the ground he was unsteady, and Bill reached over to help him keep his balance. Eddie slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Bill recoiled in surprise, looking to his other friends. None of them had anything to say.

Eddie on the other hand— he had too much.

“We left him. _**I**_ left him. I left him down there, he’s fucking down there still.” He was eerily still for a while, body cemented to the dirt beneath his shoes and body trembling with rage. They let him talk as their own grief settled in.

Bill was the first to cry, turning himself away from Eddie and covering his face. Bev saw him and turned to Ben as her own eyes filled to the brim. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she buried her face in his chest.

Mike was last, trying to keep it together for everyone else. Trying to be the strong one. In a way, he figured this was his fault. All of it. And he thought he didn’t deserve to mourn someone who’s death he was responsible for.

Eddie began pacing close to the edge of where the house was still settling, listening to the old rotted wood creak and snap and then fall. He wished he could dive into it and scratch his way down to the bottom. He almost went through with it.

“I told you not to fucking touch me!” Bill had once again come over to try and console him, but Eddie pushed him away with both hands.

Bill huffed in frustration, eyes still puffy and glossed over and practically ready to overflow again. “We c-c-can’t stay here, Eddie.”

“Remember what you fucking asked me down there, Bill? Do you remember?” Eddie wasn’t interested in going anywhere, and he was perfectly content with letting his anger and despair flare out and singe whoever was closest to him at the moment. “You asked me if I wanted Richie to die too. Just like Stan, just like Georgie, just like everyone else Pennywise killed— like I would _ever_ be okay with that happening. So c’mon, ask me again, huh? Ask me again if I’m okay with Richie being trapped and probably dead because _I let him down!_ ”

“Eddie—”

“No, Bill! You don’t get to say _shit_ right now!” Eddie was keeping his distance but was gesturing wildly as he yelled.

Bill tensed, his chest visibly heaving up and down, but before he could say anything more he was interrupted.

“Eddie.” It was Bev this time, and as she cautiously moved towards them and took Bill’s place Eddie continued pacing. She kept one hand over her mouth and her eyes followed him, back and forth, as she wiped her cheeks dry for the hundredth time. “Eds, look at me.”

As much as he wanted to resist and stay seething in his own personal bubble— he did stop. But he didn’t look at her. So she went to him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Bev took her place in front of him, talking softly. “You did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault.”

Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to rip himself open and he wanted to tear the world down— he wanted to do something big and something completely impossible. Anything less would mean that Richie Tozier was dead and the sun would rise the next day, the world would keep turning, and things would just.. move on.

He didn’t want to move on. Everything had changed, and Eddie was ready to make sure everyone knew just what had been lost.

Plus, Eddie didn’t believe her. She was sweet for saying it, but he didn’t believe her. So he just shook his head, gave her a sideways glance, and tried to choke down the tears he knew were inevitable.

“Just— just give me a minute, alright?” The words were quiet. He swallowed hard and took in a breath, not waiting for an answer before turning back to the collapsed house.

“Eds, your head—”

_“Just give me a minute.”_

Bill and Bev shared an uneasy glance, but they both moved away and the four of them ended up on the other side of the fence to give Eddie his space. They took their seats down next to each other facing the street, and stayed quiet.

Eddie centered himself in front of the rubble, planting his feet on the path that used to lead up to the front door. He could feel the blood caking the side of his face where the rock had hit him, but he ignored it.

Another memory flashed through his mind.

It was almost like he could see it in big red neon lights hanging in the air above him, blinking and flashing so he couldn’t ignore it. Words that Pennywise had said to him here 27 years ago:

IF YOU LIVED HERE— YOU’D BE HOME BY NOW

And in that moment, Eddie felt that no matter where in the world he ended up after today, that this place would always be his home. He could lower himself to the ground right where he stood and sink deep into the earth where he could stay forever, trying to reach for something and someone he would never get back. 

Eddie wanted to stay. He wanted to stay and he wanted to scream and he wanted to cry. But he stayed silent and still until one of his friends finally pulled him away, and they all left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for making you go through that. like i said, i PROMISE this fic has a happy ending. but we've got a lot of emo shit to get through first. tentatively planning to continue with the angst next week, so keep a look out for the next chapter!


	2. nothing lasts forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw for chapter two : panic attack, internalized homophobia, vague mentions of past homophobia**   
>  **cw for chapter two : sonia’s treatment of eddie growing up, and myra’s current treatment of eddie**
> 
> this chapter is 8400 words of pure eddie angst (sprinkled with a few good moments)
> 
> yes i did steal the title for this chapter from the movie. plus, the track from the score with the same name is beautiful and heartbreaking, and does in fact fit the mood of this chapter. give it a listen if you want even more emotion shoved into your brain.
> 
> if you want something else to listen to.. check out the song passenger by onerepublic. also on theme.
> 
> posting this a day early because i have poor impulse control and want to share this chapter. also if you saw me increase the number of chapters to 10.. look away.
> 
> **big thank you to emily and phil for reading this over for me before i posted it!! you guys are the best

_I’ll be right back._

Promises, promises.

Don’t make them if you can’t keep them, right?

Don’t make them if you aren’t prepared for them to eat you alive after you fail.

The guilt gnawing away at his insides made Eddie sick as he stared down at the water, trailing behind his friends after they had already jumped in. It was a long fall, but they had all managed it as kids. That’s not what was holding him back. Not the fall, not the jump, not even the disgusting water that was waiting for him.

_I’ll be right back._

Four little heads bobbed above and below the dark green surface, and Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about the most important promise he had ever made.

He could physically feel the way he was tethered to the house on Neibolt. It was like a rubber band, stretched and stretched and stretched, ready to snap if he took one more step. He couldn’t get himself to take it, afraid that the tension would break him.

_One step at a time. Break it down to just one step at a time._

Eddie took in a short, sharp breath and then bent down to untie both of his shoes. He made slow and careful work of them both and then slipped them off, setting them neatly by the fence next to everyone else’s. His pair stood out— the rest were scattered and tossed, mixed together and sitting on their sides in the dirt. He noted that there were two sets too few.

_Deep breath in. Deep breath out._

Three big steps brought him right to the edge, and he shuffled his feet so that his toes were lined up exactly where the drop off began. He glanced down, feeling his heart rate shoot up— he had never loved heights. In the city, the tall buildings towered over him and made him feel small, a feeling made even worse when he needed to go inside of one. There was a big difference between staring out at the scattered skyline where the view far and expanding, and glaring at the harsh pavement below.

He hated looking down. Too much possibility for disaster.

But he had to let the rubber band snap.

There was a miniscule amount of panic as he was falling, but it was chased away by the sensation of the freezing cold once he hit the water.

_Shit._ That was one hell of a _wake the fuck up_ moment. 

He felt the hair on his bare arms stand up straight and the two wounds on his head and face stung. But he made it.

When he was busy wiping his eyes and combing the hair off his face, his friends moved towards him.

“You alright there, Eddie?”

_“What kind of fucking question is that?”_

It stayed silent for a long time after that.

Eddie felt a small twinge of guilt at the way he snapped at Bill, but the rest of him wished he had been harsher. Were any of them alright? How would it be possible to be _anywhere_ near alright after what they had just been through? So fuck it. He figured he deserved to be a little rough around the edges right now.

Though truthfully, those rough edges felt more like thorns at the moment. His pain was big and bad but there was still space left for someone to carefully get close to him. He just didn’t know how to be okay with it right now.

While his friends spent time cleaning themselves off, submerging themselves in the water and scraping their skin as clean as they could, Eddie stayed still. His mind was racing between everything and nothing, and as water began dripping from a loose strand of hair that fell back down between his eyes he occupied himself with watching each drop make small ripples in the surface in front of him. 

He also began twisting his wedding ring around, a nervous habit of his that was proving to be difficult when wet, but the pull of the metal against his skin was a welcome distraction.

“Why don’t you clean off a bit, Eds?” Bev eventually spoke up as she rubbed her shoulder clean of the blood caked to it. “Is your head feeling okay?”

“It’s fine.” He answered without looking up. It was pounding a bit, but he didn’t care.

Mike glanced to Bev and then to Eddie, focusing on the blood tinted water that was trailing down the side of his face. “You might still be bleeding. It might help to rinse off and see.”

_“I said it’s fine.”_ The more they talked the worse he felt. There was a buildup accumulating inside him, and he tried to push it down as he twisted his ring a bit faster.

“We’re just worried about you—” That was Ben from behind him, but Eddie cut him off. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“This water is disgusting. Water this color shouldn’t be jumped into, I mean didn’t you guys ever look at the signs that say ‘no swimming’? I tried to tell you guys as kids that coming in here was a horrible idea. I don’t know how you ever convinced me to jump in, or-or why I’m even in here now. This— this stab wound might get infected after this.” Eddie motioned with both hands to the soppy wet bandage plastered to his cheek, then to the cut on his head. “So will this thing. After all that, and you know what I’m gonna die of? A bacterial infection!”

“Eddie, you’re not going to die of an infection.”

“Well you don’t know that!” _Panic attack._ This was a panic attack, but his brain was still unrelenting in telling him to find his nonexistent inhaler. “You don’t know that!

As Eddie spiraled, it was clear to the rest of them that they were all struggling to come to terms with what had happened and who they had lost. Silently and separately, the other four found themselves close to tears and were unsure of how to help the one person who was closest to losing it completely.

“This is— this is—” What was he even trying to say? Eddie had one of his hands over his chest, fingers digging into his shirt and desperately pulling at the fabric covered in Richie’s blood. It felt like someone had stuck a hand down his throat and was slowly squeezing his lungs. His breathing had become raspy as a result. “What am I even doing here? Why did I come, w-why are we all even here?”

“We can’t start thinking like that.” Ben was trying, at least.

“I can’t stop thinking like that, Ben! I can’t-I can’t stop— ” His heart felt like it was going to give out, or maybe his chest was going to cave in. He couldn’t tell which one would happen first. He felt Ben’s hand gently find a place on his shoulder, and while part of him wanted to pull away, he tried to focus on it as something tangible.

Bill, even after the way Eddie had been treating him since they escaped the collapsing house, hadn’t given up on him either. He trudged through the water so that he could stand right in front of Eddie, trying to meet his eyes as Eddie frantically looked around him and hyperventilated.

Bill didn’t say anything. All he did was take in a shaking breath of his own, and then pull Eddie in for a hug.

And somehow, that was exactly what Eddie needed.

As soon as Bill was close enough, Eddie threw his arms around his neck and burrowed his face into the crook of his shoulder. He could barely breathe, he could barely think— but what he could do is cry. For the first time since leaving Richie behind, Eddie let himself completely fall apart and now he was sobbing and clinging to Bill. It was loud and ugly, pouring out of him from deep inside. He was afraid his ribs would shatter from the sheer force of it.

Ben, Bev, and Mike were drawn in immediately and then Eddie found himself cocooned by the loving embrace of all of his friends. He was safe and warm up against all four of them, their limbs layered and woven tightly around each other with him in the center. Underneath his heaving sobs, they cried too.

Bill cradled him close and whispered, _“I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”_

Eddie wanted to say something back, something like _‘It should have been me. That wasn’t his end to take, it was supposed to have been mine.’_ Instead, he just cried harder.

After 27 years, the five Losers allowed themselves to take as much time as they wanted to stay shivering and huddled together in the freezing water. Their legs went numb and their clothes clung to their skin as their fingertips turned to wrinkled knubs, but they stayed together until Eddie’s sobs died down and their breathing became synchronous. 

One by one they peeled away. Bill was last, keeping his hands on Eddie’s shoulders for a few extra seconds and giving him a sad smile before separating completely.

“He should be here.” Eddie croaked out, his voice tired from his sobs.

“He should.” Bill agreed, nodding and wiping his eyes.

And that was enough for now. Eddie could feel it in his core, and their heartbreak settled around them like a shadow. Going forward, they would have to learn to live with it following them around.

He went back to twisting his wedding ring soon after, but this time it didn’t last long.

This time, he twisted it right off his finger.

He held it between both thumbs and pointer fingers, flipping it around a few times. There was nothing to look at, nothing new. It was a plain silver band, something he wore as a habit more than anything else.

It took maybe five seconds for him to take one last look at it before tossing it into the water.

As he tried to follow its trajectory Eddie wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, and he searched for it between the _maybes_ and the _never agains._ Getting rid of his wedding ring didn't actually change anything and that’s probably why he didn’t feel much as a result. But the one thing he was sure of? It started something. And he was itching to pull on the thread to see what it would unravel.

Bill quickly looked between Eddie and where they all saw his ring plop into the water. “Did you just—?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded.

A pause. “Why?”

Eddie shrugged, then shook his head. “Not sure. It just felt.. right.”

None of them had anything else to add. Bev had rid herself of her own ring before even getting to Derry, and it was incredible to watch someone else do the same thing. She smiled, a little bit sad and a little bit hopeful, before stealing a glance at Ben.

Bill was less enthusiastic about it. Watching Eddie effortlessly throw away his ring made him feel uneasy, caught between the idea of keeping or getting rid of his own and not knowing which one felt better. Neither of them did. Both of them did. And he hated being so unsure.

“We should go.” Eddie was finally ready. Even though his stomach was still sick and he felt two steps away from crumbling apart, he was aching to move on.

He was the first person to move and guide them through the water, but he was the last person to leave it. The group walked silently, the only sound being the water parting around their bodies. The others waited for him on the shore as Eddie hung back, again, and found himself staring over the length of the water.

He hated this place. But he also loved it. Every corner of Derry held memories, both good and bad, and the quarry held too many to count. Some of those memories had come back during their swim, and now he was flipping through one last scene.

It was a moment with all seven of them messing around during the summer a year after Pennywise, splashing around and laughing and choking when someone else would splash water in their face. Eddie protested as Richie tried to shove his face below the surface and in the scuffle, Richie’s glasses were swiped right off his face. They quickly sunk to the bottom.

Eddie had tried not to laugh, but he was thankful that his outburst made Richie stop trying to dunk him. Plus, it was always entertaining to see his best friend squint in the sun when his vision escaped him. _“Eddieeee!”_ Richie whined, dramatic as always. “Fuck you! It’s your job to find them now!”

“No it’s not! It’s not my fault they got knocked off!”

“Yeah it is! You’re the one who did it you dumbass!”

“It was self defense! I’m not going underwater! It’s full of so much shit you don’t even wanna know about!”

They argued and argued and while they did, Mike had dove down and easily found them. But before he had a chance to give them back and stop the bickering, Stan silently took them from Mike with a smirk, happy to see the chaos continue while the rest of them enjoyed themselves off to the side.

The memory finished and it made him smile. That’s when he remembered what was in his pocket.

It took effort to pull them out of his soaked jeans, but after a short struggle he was able to snag Richie’s glasses and hold them out in front of him. Dirty water beaded on the lenses and filled the cracks. He could almost see the eyes that belonged behind them, but he stopped himself from trying to picture them. It was too much.

He had cried enough for an entire lifetime earlier, but that didn’t stop him from tearing up again as he knelt down. He held Richie’s glasses right on the surface of the water and watched as small waves washed over them, their shape distorting for a few moments before clearing up again. They practically begged him to be laid to rest in the deep green depths, wanting somewhere to settle that wasn’t tethered to Eddie and the heartbreak he would feel every time he looked at them.

So, he let them go. This time there would be no one around to salvage them, and no one left to give them back to.

He watched the glasses slowly sink for as long as he could see them before they were hidden by the opaque waves. And that was it. The space they left behind in his hands felt hollow.

_“Bye, Rich.”_

There was something else on the tip of his tongue, something that was close to words but felt more like an instinct. If he tried hard enough Eddie could put the pieces together, make a real fleshed out thought. _If he wanted to._ But that was the problem— he didn’t want to. There was fear there, and there was that stubborn streak that was telling him _don’t you dare say what you want to say, this isn’t the right time._

So he stopped himself, and when he stood up he was pinching the bridge of his nose and hiding his face.

Saying goodbye was way, _way_ harder than he thought it would be. And he couldn’t quite place it, but there was a feeling that he shouldn’t have done it at all. Maybe it was because if he let go of the grief and the rage, he would have nothing left and he wasn’t ready to be empty yet. But it felt like something different.

Eventually he was pulled gently to the shore by one of his friends (who exactly, he didn’t know) and they all made their way back to the inn. 

Now they were one step closer to returning to something that resembled their real lives. Whatever the hell that meant.

They spent the night taking care of each other, doing the best job that was possible for five broken people who had their entire sense of self ripped to shreds within the span of 48 hours. It was soft and awkward, tense at times and heavy with the sadness they wanted to talk about and forget about in equal amounts.

Eddie stayed down in the main room on the ground floor with them purely because he didn’t have the energy to move. Not that he didn’t want to see his friends, and not that he necessarily even wanted to be alone, but there was part of him that wanted to crawl onto the horribly springy mattress waiting for him upstairs and never crawl out.

Every sound was too loud. The clink of the glasses as they poured more drinks. The creak of the chairs as they adjusted in their seats. Their voices when one of them would make a small funny comment and the rest would half-heartedly laugh. It’s like Eddie’s senses had been dialed up two clicks too far and now the entire world was echoing around in his ears drums. All he could manage to do was squeeze himself against the far end of the couch, pressing himself into the corner as far as he could manage while his restless hands sat in his lap. They fidgeted and twisted together, a mindless routine that mildly eased the strange tension that filled his body. 

Beverly asked if he wanted some water. He shook his head no.

Ben asked if he wanted anything from upstairs before he left the room to go get a sweater. Eddie shook his head no again.

The phone in his left pocket started to vibrate for the fourth time since he turned it on half an hour ago. He ignored it and let it ring until it went to voicemail. Again. It was easy to guess who was calling him. But he didn’t even have the energy to talk to the people in the same room as him— which meant he _definitely_ didn’t have the energy to talk to his wife.

Eventually he took it out of his pocket and texted Myra:

_Been busy. Be in touch soon._

She called twice after that but eventually gave up and switched to texting. He ignored that too. By the end of the night, his phone was full of so many notifications that he figured it might be easier to snap it in half and worry about the consequences later. He knew it was because he didn’t hold up his end of The Deal (that he didn’t actually agree to before he left): to call her once in the morning and once in the evening for each day he was gone. 

Fuck that.

In a flash of emotion, he took his phone out and typed out:

_Leave me alone._

He paused. Then deleted it with a sigh and put his phone away.

When they were all ready to finally think about sleep, Mike made them wait another second. They patiently (but not so patiently) waited as he typed something out on his phone, and then the four of them all received a text.

“Group chat.” Mike said with that soft smile of his. “So we can keep in touch. Can everyone sound off so you all know who’s who?”

Eddie thought it was cheesy. And maybe he wasn’t ready to suddenly have real friends shoved into his mess of a life. But he wasn’t going to say no.

He clicked his phone on, read Mike’s little _‘Welcome to the Losers Chat’_ text, and then sent back:

_Eddie._

That was enough for him. He managed to offer up fake smiles as they all promised to get some sleep and chatted about tentative plans for the morning. They included Eddie in the conversation even though he had nothing to add.

Normally Eddie would love to be planning his time, to keep his mind busy, to know exactly where he needed to be and when. It was the control that usually kept him from unraveling in his daily life. But right now it felt like his brain would liquify if he tried to piece together a semi-normal sounding day in Derry.

They all hugged. Bev gave them kisses to the cheek and Mike lingered on every embrace.

Once Eddie trudged his way upstairs and closed his door behind him, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The entire time he was downstairs he wished he was up here, and now he wished he was still back with his friends. He couldn’t win right now.

Eddie understood himself well enough to know that sleep would help, but the problem was in getting to sleep and _staying_ asleep. Even though he had gone through enough intense highs and lows today to easily knock him out at least a solid ten hours, maybe even twelve, sleep still felt impossible.

None of that was helped by the fact that his bathroom was still a crime scene. Ben had let him take a shower and bandage up in his room after they got back but now Eddie was stuck with the blood spattered, shower curtain-less, broken window room. He debated keeping himself busy by taking on the responsibility of cleaning it up, but after three minutes of pacing he ended up keeping the door to the bathroom closed and tried to pretend it didn’t exist.

Richie’s room was free. The thought had crossed his mind, and he immediately regretted it. Suffering in here was by far the better choice.

Eddie’s thoughts wandered back to his bathroom.

_It’s someone else’s problem. He had enough problems right now. He would probably throw up if he saw his own blood splattered across that ugly tile. He didn’t have the right cleaning supplies._

The list of excuses circled around in his head until his pacing finally ended with him sitting down on the bed and then letting himself fall onto his back.

The ceiling was a plain, stark white. His eyes searched for something to focus on but there was nothing. Just.. nothing. A blank slate. But it felt oddly like a mirror that he couldn’t look away from.

Eddie fell asleep with the lights still on. 

He woke up sore and foggy headed, curled strangely around one of his pillows and only half covered in a blanket. The first thing he did was check his phone as he rubbed away the sleep from his eyes.

There were a few things sent to the group chat:

_**Bev:** Hey Eds! We didn’t want to wake you, but we’re going shopping for a few things so if we aren’t around when you wake up, don’t freak out!_

_**Ben:** Let us know if you want us to get you something while we’re out._

_**Mike:** We all love you! Rest up, buddy._

He read the text from Mike and his stomach twisted into knots, which was embarrassing. It took a second for him to figure out why, but when he started tearing up a bit he picked up on it pretty damn quickly.

Eddie believed him. Mike said that they loved him, and Eddie believed him. 

Eddie clicked his phone off and tossed it onto the bed next to him, letting out a scoff of laughter. He felt like an exposed nerve, easily sparked. But the feelings gave him an idea of how to spend his day.

After a quick shower in Ben’s bathroom Eddie texted them back:

_Thanks, I don’t need anything. I’m heading out for a bit but I’ll be back later._

He paused, heart fluttering, before he quickly typed out:

_Love you guys, too_

He hit send before he could decide to delete it, letting the left over adrenaline carry him out to his car as he tried not to think about what Richie would be quipping back if he was in the chat with them.

***

Growing up, Eddie Kaspbrak knew two things:

1) Richie Tozier was his best friend. Not like the rest of the Losers, who were also his best friends. Richie was his _**best**_ best friend, and he was Richie’s.  
2) His mom wasn't the only person who didn’t love how close the two of them were.

They had never been the most popular, or popular at all for that matter, but there was something about them _together_ that always seemed to set people off. Eddie could remember a list of choice names they were called throughout their teenage years that he hadn’t let himself understand back then. They left him with a bad taste in his mouth, a queasy stomach, and shaking hands, but he never did anything about it. The worst part was that it seemed to get to Richie even more. Eddie remembered him always going quiet, and a quiet Richie always meant something was very, very wrong.

But, with Eddie being who he was and growing up the way he did, he was pro at repression. It was second nature to him. Every time something happened, he would stuff that rage and fear and uneasiness as far down as he possibly could so he could pretend like nothing was wrong. One whiff of something being wrong meant being smothered by worrying, overbearing hands. It meant no personal space, no say in what happened to him, and being talked into things he didn’t want to do. Showing his pain meant being stifled into next week, courtesy of Sonia Kaspbrak.

Everything was connected. He could see it now. Practically everything about him made him easy pickings for a town filled with narrow minded people: he small and emotional, caring and sensitive, easy to rile up and very close with his male friends. A perfect recipe for anyone on the hunt.

It wasn’t until his later college years that Eddie even let himself think he could be into men. It scared the shit out of him for months, and once his brain let slip a single thought about the cute boy sitting next to him in chemistry he panicked and tried to never think about it again. But by then, Derry was beginning to fade. All those names and all those horrible feelings were still with him but he couldn’t remember why. And that only made it worse. 

A wave of nausea hit him as he closed the car door behind him and another chunk of long forgotten memories came slamming in. The longer he spent here, the more he remembered, and the more he realized there was just as much bad as there was good.

Eddie wanted to remember the good. He wanted to remember every moment he spent with Richie, but like everything else— the good was dragging some heavy stuff behind it. So he would have to face it all at once if he wanted anything to take home with him.

Eddie had grown up reaching for the people closest to him because it never felt like they were close enough. He had grown up desperate for closeness that didn’t stem from manipulation and worry, and he grew up terrified to ask for it. He always found himself trying to justify it rather than just.. experience it. The lines between friends and more than friends were blurred so badly that Eddie figured the _more than_ didn’t exist for him.

He was, and still is, a person full to the brim with love who had no where to put it.

His eyes glanced quickly over the sea of markings on the wood as he walked, not necessarily because he needed to find where he was going, but because it was a marvel to look at. Designs and names and phrases and symbols, scratched in with varying levels of care. Some were intricate and well loved while others were etched in quickly and harshly. The bridge held so many secrets and so many feelings, spread across the decades.

Every moment Eddie spent in Derry was an exercise in.. feeling. For such an emotional person, he wasn’t well equipped to deal with the incredible amount of _anything_ he felt at any moment. He’d lived his life scared, bitter, angry, disappointed.. and it took coming back home to realize just how terrible that was.

As it turned out, Eddie was strangely good at surviving. All the shit he went through as a kid, all the paranoid thoughts and panic attacks, all the moments when he felt trapped in his own marriage.. he had survived it all. He made it to here, to this moment, as he finally found the carving he was looking for.

He realized now that surviving wasn’t enough, and he didn’t have the strength to keep himself held together behind the wall he had built up over the last 40 years.

He was feeling everything, all at once, mixing together and sparking fires and flooding his brain. It was too much for one person, but that’s all he was. One person, experiencing tremendous loss, doing his best to take each step as it came to him.

His breath hitched when his gaze pinpointed on one particular carving. It was so familiar and yet so foreign, like he was watching a memory from outside of his body. 

Fingers gently traced the indents, slow and steady. The wood was old and rough like sandpaper and he enjoyed the feel of it against his skin. He smiled. And then he cried.

This was definitely his handiwork. He remembered it now as clear as day.

Eddie had been 15 when he carved the R into the fence. It felt like a lifetime ago, which it was in a way. He remembered feeling so stupid for drawing out a horrendously assymetrical heart around it, but it was better than leaving it as just a plain undecorated letter. It needed something more— so the heart seemed like the best option since he felt unsure about adding his own initial next to it. 

Back then, he understood that he and Richie were more than friends. But _‘more than friends’_ was about as far as he was willing to go in terms of labels. He loved Richie. That was the most important thing. What right did he have to attached himself permanently to someone who might end up leaving or get sick of him or move on to something better than this stupid little town? Eddie had been convinced his entire childhood that he would be stuck in Derry forever. But Richie? He was going places. And there was no way in hell Eddie would risk holding him back.

That’s why there was no E next to this R. Eddie had carved it simply to say.. _Richie was loved._ And he always would be. Who it was that loved him wasn’t important.

Eddie traced the heart with his finger three times. He debated re-carving it, but it felt wrong to change it. It survived this long, just like he had. Disturbing it now didn't feel right. It was enough to just see it and feel it, to remind himself that these intense feelings weren’t some made up facade his brain was tricking him into. Eddie had loved Richie, and he still did. That was an absolutely undeniable fact.

After a few sniffles, Eddie wiped his eyes and then pulled his phone out of his pocket. One swipe opened up the camera so he could take a picture of his old artwork, but as he took a step back to get a better view he noticed something else caught in the frame of the photo.

Eddie brows furrowed together and his eyes flicked between the screen of his phone and the fence itself. He thought maybe he was seeing things. 

_He was not._

Eddie clicked his phone off and moved to investigate the suspicious set of initials that caught his attention. They were close to his own R— just one plank above it and a few inches to the right. That was it. And yet Eddie had never noticed it before.

R + E

Plain as day, right fucking there, big and bold and messy. Eddie felt his heart drop into his stomach.

No way. _There was no way._

He didn’t want to let himself believe what he wanted to believe. But..

**No.**

Eddie clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. There wasn’t any point in torturing himself over the feelings of a dead man. So what if that R was for Richie and that E was for Eddie? So what if it wasn’t? He would never get an answer, so it was his job to try and make sure he didn’t get stuck on the question.

But in the back of his mind he wondered, _what if Richie loved me too?_

_“Shit.”_ He hissed the word and then stood up, deciding it was time to leave. He managed two steps before he flipped back around, took one picture of both carvings together, and then got into his car. Once the door was closed his hands immediately went to grip the steering wheel with an astounding amount of force, his knuckles turning white in the process. 

File it away for later. This is why people went to therapy.

Then his phone dinged. He forced himself to take a deep breath before looking at it.

_**Bill:** We’re going to be at the library for a bit. If you want, you can meet us there. We all hope you’re doing alright._

_**Eddie:** You mean the place where we left Bowers with an ax in his head?_

_**Bill:** Yeah, about that_

_**Bill:** It’s.. weird. But we don’t have to stress about ax murders or anything_

Eddie made a face at his screen, something between disgust and confusion.

_**Eddie:** ??????_

_**Bill:** Just get over here_

_“For fuck’s sake.”_ Eddie started his car and then drove to the other side of town just a tad too fast.

Opening the door to the library was like ripping off a bandaid— something he really didn’t want to do but needed to. Bill wasn’t very specific in his texts so he was afraid about walking in to find the chaos they had left behind.

Instead, he was met with Ben sweeping broken glass across the floor. And that was it.

Eddie froze in place and the door shut loudly behind him. Ben looked up.

“Eddie!” He stopped sweeping and smiled. “Everyone else is upstairs helping Mike with a few things. You can go up and join them, I’ll be up after I finish down here.”

Eddie blinked, then gestured to the place where Bowers should have been. “I’m confused.”

Ben nodded. “We all are. Bowers wasn’t anywhere to be found when we got here. All of us were ready to either call the cops or.. do something a bit more drastic. But..” He shrugged. “..one less thing to worry about.”

“And you’re just.. okay with that?”

Ben scoffed. “Honestly, Eds? Not really. But we’ve all been through enough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Whatever the hell happened, if I think about it too much I might snap.”

Eddie reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah.. alright. That’s fair enough.”

“This town has enough insane shit going on that a mysteriously disappearing dead body makes the very bottom of the list.” Ben continued. “We deserve a break. Maybe this is the universe trying its best to give us one.”

Eddie wanted to believe that. He wasn’t sure that Ben fully believed it, but it sure as hell made both of them feel a bit better in the moment. The only problem was that he thought of a few other ways the universe could have repaid them, and they would have been so much better than getting rid of Bowers for them.

They both went quiet for a good thirty seconds, feeling a bit awkward. Ben spoke up first.

“You doing okay, Eddie? We hoped giving you some space today was the right move, but if we messed up—”

“No, no. Having time to myself today was.. good.” Eddie gently waved off Ben’s apology. “I appreciated it. And uh, well. I’m glad to be back with you guys now.”

“We’re glad you’re here, too.” Ben sounded cautious but genuine. 

Eddie wondered if Ben had been just as lonely as he was during the past two decades. He figured they were all a bit lonely, just in different ways.

“You sure you don’t want help with that?” Eddie offered with a sliver of hope that Ben would give him an excuse to stay down here where it wasn’t so congested.

Ben shook his head. “I got this. You go upstairs, they’ll be happy to see you.”

Not the answer he was looking for. But Eddie didn’t want to be weird, so after a moment of hesitation he headed for the stairs. Ben gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked past.

The soft sound of his friends mulling about and shuffling around the room floated down to him as he worked his way up. Mike’s voice was deep and warm, happy to have company. Bev was asking where he wanted things stored, and Bill was helping her move things and getting distracted along the way.

Eddie was greeted gently, tentatively, and kindly. He was thankful for the space, but as each of them wrapped their arms around him he fought the urge to lock them into place so he could stay safe and close. 

“While we’re here we wanted to make sure Mike was all stocked up for a bit.” Bev got Eddie up to speed after they hugged. She walked over to the fridge and motioned to Eddie to follow. “He was startling low on.. everything.”

Ah— being useful. Keeping his hands busy. Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He took his place next to Bev and started unpacking one of the bags of groceries they had brought in. First was the milk and the eggs and the butter. The basics.

“Seriously, you guys didn’t have to—” Mike started to say, which turned out to be a mistake.

Bill set down the book he was holding with just enough gusto that it cut Mike off. He glared at him until Mike met his gaze. “What did we say?”

A heavy sigh. “That you guys love me, you did this because I deserve good meals, and that I’m not allowed to feel bad about getting help.”

Bev smirked as she reached out to Eddie so he could hand her the next item. “You’ll get the hang of it. I think all of us are pretty bad at this kind of stuff so.. we’ll figure it out together.”

She was saying it for Mike’s sake, but Eddie felt oddly comforted. He handed her a container of tofu from the bag. “Are you vegetarian, Mike?”

“Not yet. But I’ve wanted to try it for.. a long time now.”

Being casual was slowly lifting away the heaviness Eddie was carrying with him. They were talking about extremely normal things— food, books, songs they remembered listening to as kids. At one point Eddie ended up on a slight tangent about how using coconut oil instead of butter didn’t actually make something healthier, but they managed to wrangle him back on topic.

Ben joined them as Eddie and Bev were finishing up at the fridge. Eddie watched as they glowed at each other from across the room.

It made him happy and it also made him.. jealous.

_Shut up shut up shut up._ Eddie scolded himself in his head. That was a horrible way to feel about two people he cared about. What the hell was wrong with him?

He let the feeling wash over him, and did his best to move on.

The room was warm and not as stifling as Eddie imagined it would be. It kept him together for a while.

Later in the day, to Mike’s embarrassment, they came across folders with each of their names on it. Bev and Bill were happy to flip through theirs as their curiosity won them over. Theirs were also the biggest— and Eddie couldn’t help but tease at the fact that he had famous friends. Mike beamed when Eddie brought it up.

Ben’s also had some substance to it, which he politely declined to look at. Eddie declined his before Mike even had the chance to show it to him.

Mike was so endearing. Throughout the years he gathered everything he could on the six of them, ranging from newspaper clippings to printed out articles he came across on the internet. Anything that mentioned their name or included their face, Mike kept. He stumbled through an explanation as to why, but they all made it very clear that they found it sweet. Because it was. It made them all realize how much he had loved them while they couldn’t even remember who he was.

They all fell into uneasy silence when the last two were revealed. Stan, like Eddie, wasn’t exactly a household name. But then there was Richie’s.

“Does anybody want to..” Ben spoke up.

And Eddie replied quickly. “No. Not yet.”

They glanced at him, but didn’t argue. None of them were ready to have the lives of their dead friends spread out for them like a museum exhibit.

Eddie gripped his finger to anxiously twist at his wedding ring only to discover it wasn’t there. He dropped his hands when he remembered.

Bill and Bev set their folders down without a word. 

“How’s your head feeling Eddie?” Bev turned away from where she set hers down and crossed her arms.

“God, I don’t want to talk about my head right now. It’s fine.” Those butterfly stitches he carried with him everywhere had finally come in handy. Sure, there was a pulsing ache originating from where he was smacked with the rock, but he was fine. He had already spent a significant amount of time and energy worrying about both the injuries he’d acquired yesterday and frankly he was not in the mood.

Bev was a bit defensive against his tone. “Hey, we’re worried about you. That’s why I asked.”

“Why are we not saying anything about Stan and Richie?” There. Eddie finally said it. The folders had set him off and now he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. “We’re-We’re dancing around them like we’ll get smited if we say their names. Are we never gonna talk about how two of our best friends are dead? What the fuck guys, I mean—”

“What do you want us to say, Eddie?” Bill replied and shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“That you’re pissed! That you’re fucking miserable! That I’m not the only one who feels like nothing makes any goddamn sense anymore!” The volume of his voice rose with every word until he was yelling and his hands were motioning with as much drama as they could manage. “Just because I don’t wanna look into those stupid folders doesn’t mean I want to pretend like nothing happened! It’s great that you guys had a fun day shopping but how the fuck are you guys just standing there like our lives aren’t totally fucked up?”

“This _is_ totally fucked up Eddie! All of us know how fucked up it is!” Bev shouted back, eyes threatening to spill over. “You’re not the only one that’s hurting.”

_“Then fucking show me!”_ Eddie felt like an island caught in a hurricane— alone, small, and minutes away from being washed off the map. He started crying before Bev did. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one who can’t catch my breath? Why are all of you able to be here and just.. buy groceries and talk about books like the world is the same as we left it?”

“That’s not fair.” Bill looked like he was about to come over and deck him in the face. Eddie silently dared him to. “We all process grief d-d-differently. We miss them too! My heart is fucking broken too!”

“Guys, please—” Mike wanted them to stop. 

Ben joined him, physically stepping into the middle of the argument. “We shouldn’t be fighting right now. We should be supporting each other. Can we just.. take a breath? I’m not afraid to tackle any of you if you get too worked up.”

After two seconds of quiet, Mike let out a small snort of laughter. It fizzled into the room and created a cascading effect. Soon enough they were all laughing.

Through his giggles, Ben relaxed and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“I’m sorry—” Mike replied, biting his finger to try and stifle his outburst. “I pictured you tackling Eddie and I couldn’t hold it in.”

That’s when the second wave of relief washed over them.

Eddie tried not to laugh and it wasn’t until he was completely red in the face that he finally cracked. “Hey, hey now— that’s not fair! I might be small but I can take him!”

“Oh I’d love to see you try, Eds!” Bev chimed in and received a playful shoulder smack from Bill as he bent over wheezing.

Eddie was practically ready to collapse on the floor from the sheer effort of switching gears so quickly. It was too much for him, jumping between being angry and then heartbroken and then happy and then back again. People weren’t meant to twist themselves into knots to try and feel everything so strongly and so fast. 

He was laughing and he was enjoying the company of his friends, but the entire rest of the night passed and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lost and it would take a miracle to find himself again.

They talked about fond memories with Stan and Richie. They talked about their favorite recipes and shared a few bottles of wine. They laughed and they cried and they relearned to be comfortable with each other’s silences. It was a long night, but all of them were grateful for it.

Once the sun set, the conversations got harder. They all started to discuss their next move, what the next day would bring, and how they were scared.

Bill managed to book a flight scheduled to take off practically at the break of dawn, so he was leaving first. Ben didn’t have anything to rush home to, besides board meetings he could get himself out of, so he was taking Bev to the airport a little later in the morning. To their surprise, he mentioned he would be staying in Derry with Mike for a bit, just for a few days and then he was going to meet back up with Bev. Mike.. well, Mike didn’t have anywhere to go just yet. But Eddie had caught bits and pieces about his plans to maybe take some time off in the near future. He sounded quite excited about it and Ben was happy to make sure he actually went through with it. They all tried to ignore how jealous Bill seemed when _that_ fact was brought up.

And Eddie? He hadn’t thought about when he was leaving. But he wasn’t going to stick around here, that much he knew.

It all felt too mundane, too much like they were all saying _Wow, that was a crazy day! Time to rest up and go home!_ Eddie reminded himself of the heated conversation from earlier and put effort into convincing himself that his worries were anything but the truth. It was hard fucking work.

They had mourned together in all their own ways, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But they all seemed to have this drive inside them to figure out what the hell to do with the rest of their lives and there wasn’t time to wait. So they would pack their sadness away like a shirt in their suitcase and see how it evolved from there.

Yeah. They were all real, functioning, well adjusted adults— weren’t they?

Their goodbyes the next morning at the inn were filled with lots of tears and smiles and hugs that lasted long enough to make even Mike break them off. And the funny thing was.. Eddie couldn’t remember any of them saying the actual word _‘goodbye’_. Had they done that on purpose? Was he just going insane? He had no answers, but it stuck with him when they all got in their cars and waved to Mike.

Eddie waited until the parking lot was empty.

His car was running and his bags were packed. It should have been an easy decision to drive straight out of Derry and back to New York where the rest of his life was waiting for him. Eddie had a wife and a job and he had worked hard to get to this place in his life. Up until now, that was the reasoning he used to just _stick with it._ To push through the tough times and the sinking feelings and the moments when he wished he could go numb.

Now? Now he couldn’t picture himself going back.

There was a show about glassblowers Eddie once got hooked on for a few weeks. Everything about it fascinated him— the artistry, the talent, the incredible amount of work that went into creating something unique. Right now he felt like one of those white-hot bulbs of glass that had just been sitting in a furnace. Whatever shape he had been at the start was completely gone. Now he was ready to be pulled and stretched and molded into his final shape. It didn’t matter how dangerous it was, it didn’t matter that one wrong move could send him crashing to pieces. Eddie needed to figure out if he was meant to be a masterpiece or if he would just stay like this forever.

To him, one of the most satisfying things was to see the works of glass get shot into a pail of water and then come out changed. He found himself drawn to the pieces with cracks you could see beneath the surface. Something about.. finding beauty in things that are broken but are still whole. He could live with being imperfect, as long as it meant that he got to live.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not going home.

But he couldn’t stay here.

So it was time for him to be spontaneous for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so eddie's going on a journey... what's going on with richie?_ you might be wondering
> 
> next chapter you'll find out!


	3. rise and shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw for chapter three : throwing up, anxiety, panic, mentions of richie’s death, short description of a scar, dissociation**
> 
> ready to find out what's going on with richie?
> 
> notice that i added the 'slow burn' tag. i denied it for a while but yeah, it's gonna take a bit for everything to officially fall into place.. sorry guys. it's worth it though i promise!! happy ending!! remember that!!
> 
> **big shout out again to my beta readers, you guys are amazing and i very much needed the support for this chapter!!

Richie had spent his entire life feeling like he was underwater.

The heaviness was familiar to him— tired limbs, head hanging low as he walked around the city like his clothes were soaked through to the bone. That feeling of being waterlogged and tired of swimming to keep himself afloat. At times he even found himself below the surface, gasping for air.

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t too much of a shock for him to wake up where he did. The biggest shock was the waking up itself.

It was like slipping into consciousness after an unexpected mid-day nap that lasted too long. The light stung his eyes. It was bright and clear and quiet. Richie was on his back, hesitant to move and trying to focus on the sounds around him: water sloshing, birds chirping in the distance, and the soft rustle of leaves.

He turned his head to the side and all he could see was dark green water that came to life when the wind picked up. It rose straight into his nose. He coughed, then tried to clear his airway before he choked. Thankfully he didn’t.

When he turned his face back to the sky the light glinted off of something on his chest.

His glasses— cracked on the one side just as he remembered. They were perched perfectly center, facing him like they were put there to keep an eye on him. Richie squinted as he looked to them, awkwardly angled to see down the length of his body as he floated gently on the surface of the water.

Through the lenses he noticed something else— it was small, silver, reflecting the light almost like a diamond.

A ring?

Richie blinked the fog away and decided it was time to get up and figure out what the hell was going on. He slid his glasses on, grabbed the ring, and then moved so he could try and find the ground beneath him.

Once he was standing, the water level settled around his waist. He felt.. light. Like he was walking on a cloud instead of through the murky depths of Derry’s quarry. The clean air sent a rush through him every time he took a breath in. The cold water was sharp but he welcomed it. His body felt new, nerves reset and once again learning what it meant to feel.

But it all came crashing down on him in an instant.

_Pennywise. The cistern. Eddie saving him. He and his friends running for their lives. His own death._

Or, what Richie _thought_ was his death. The memory struck him hard, his chest growing tight. He remembered falling after Pennywise let him go, and the way Eddie had looked as terrified as he had ever looked. He remembered Eddie’s face when he walked away to rejoin the fight. He remembered darkness filling the cave, the sound of crumbling rocks, the ground shaking as they cascaded together and trapped him inside, sealing his fate.

Maybe this was a trick. Maybe this was the afterlife. Richie hadn’t ever thought much about what came after death— didn’t care, but also cared far too much. So, it was easy to push those existential type questions deep down where he couldn’t reach them anymore.

Now he was kicking himself. If he had let his overactive brain prepare him a bit more, maybe he would have a few more answers right now. Maybe if he had listened to his parents a bit more as a kid instead of running his mouth and letting his fidgety limbs run wild...

But probably not.

Whatever the fuck this was, it felt real. 

A thought crossed his mind. A hand flew to his chest, flattening over the area where there had been a bloody hole torn through him. If anything, his clothes being completely intact should have been some sort of indication of what was waiting for him underneath, but he couldn’t be sure.

For a split second he got sidetracked when he noticed Eddie’s hoodie floating away from him a few feet off to the side. He reached over and grabbed it.

“Okay.” He tried to steady himself. “You’re fine. You got stabbed by a demon clown and maybe died, _definitely_ died, but you’re fine. How did you get here? Good question. But there’s not a giant spike sticking through your chest anymore, and there’s not gonna be lots of blood or anything. You’re fine, Tozier. You’re fine.”

He sounded insane— talking to himself like this. Not that it was the first time, he actually caught himself doing that quite often, but right now it seemed like just another symptom of whatever the hell was going on with him.

Richie’s eyes flicked down. He wouldn't be able to live with his paranoia forever. Sooner or later he would have to look.

He took one finger and hooked it over the collar of his t-shirt, gritting his teeth and hearing the blood pumping in his ears. God, he was glad none of his friends were around to see the face he was making. 

All he could think about was how much of a coward he was.

Slowly he pulled the fabric down, and to his extreme relief there was no blood, no spike, and no chest wound. 

There was, however, a giant scar. Richie barely got a look at it before a shot of panic hit his system and he was hastily pulling his shirt back up. The hoodie he had just fished out of the water went right back to where it had been before— plastered to his chest, now covering the scar that had scared him almost enough to kill him again.

“Alright. _What the fuck?”_ He had expected to still be bleeding but didn’t expect a scar? _Solid logic,_ he thought to himself with obvious sarcasm. He sure felt stupid now. “That’s so not okay, that thing is huge! Holy shit. I can’t look at that, I can’t—”

Richie was slowly spiraling. Underneath the bundled up fabric he was holding tight to his body, Richie felt his breathing grow more rapid. _“Pull yourself together, man.”_

The water around him began to settle as he froze in place, trying to calm himself down. When he saw his reflection in the water, his attention got stuck there for a few long seconds.

He didn’t look different, not really. But he didn’t quite recognize himself. Not that he could say he knew what he really looked like anymore— Richie had become an expert at avoiding his image. Didn’t matter if it was at home or not, mirrors were not his friend. He filled up too much space, he didn’t stand straight enough, his glasses were crooked, his once in a blue moon smile was goofy and his hair was a mess of waves he never knew what to do with. 

But he was standing up tall now, even with how terrified he was. His face was soft and open, even though he was tired and lost and confused. Richie couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he always looked or if it was just because he was.. changed. 

One glance. That’s all it took to drag out the existentialism he did his best to hide away. 

He felt hollowed out and ready to burst at the same time. Ready to molded back into shape but not having any clue how to do it, afraid he would carve himself into something fundamentally wrong and even more screwed up than he was before.

A wave of reality hit him and Richie realized he was shaking, his skin starting to rebel against the fact that he was still standing in the water. After he took in a deep breath his teeth started to chatter together and then he took a look around him.

He had been here so many times, and truthfully it had barely changed since the last time he took a swim over two decades ago. But being here by himself made him feel so exposed. It was quiet and calm, sunny and light— but his friends weren’t here with him. This was only ever supposed to be a place for the Losers to have time together, where they could escape the things holding them back. Being here alone felt like he was breaking the rules.

Richie took in a deep breath, one that was so big that it hurt his lungs. He could feel his scar burning a hole through his cold, soaked shirt and tried to put it out of his mind as he finally made his legs move him towards the shore.

First step: completed. Richie was out of the water. That’s how he was going to have to handle this. One step at a time.

Because seriously… what the actual _**FUCK**_ was going on?

No, nope. No more thoughts about how he died cold and alone. No more thoughts about the lingering warmth of Eddie’s hand as he let go, and how Richie had both hoped for and dreaded the idea of his best friend following through on his promise. No more thoughts about Pennywise taking control of his mind in the Deadlights, or the horrible fog his brain had been in and how he had lost control over his body—

Nope. He would have to schedule a breakdown for later. Much, much later.

The air caught in his throat and he closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a small patch of color that stood out amongst the pale stone he was surrounded with.

It was a turtle, sitting calm and unmoving on a flat-topped boulder to his right. 

Richie tipped his head to the side as he looked it over, one corner of his mouth perking into something resembling a curious smile.

“Aren’t you gonna get all dried up sitting on that rock?” Richie was talking to the turtle now. He was standing on the edge of the water, breathing fast and shallow, talking to a turtle. Completely normal behavior for someone who had died earlier in the day, right? That _had_ to be a chapter in the Resurrection Handbook.

The turtle stayed as still as the rock it was perched on, and did not provide Richie with an answer.

“The silent type. I get it. Never been me, but I get it.” Richie adjusted his glasses, feeling a bit light headed, and then continued. “Mind if I join you? The person I usually talk to isn’t here right now so you’re stuck with me.”

A moment later, Richie turned himself around to face the water and then lowered himself onto the chalky gravel that lined the shore. Water continued to drip from the mess of waves atop his head and so he took a moment to swipe the hair away from his forehead. 

As he continued his one-way conversation, he crossed his legs and began absentmindedly twirling the ring around in his fingers. “This has been.. a crazy day.” And that was putting it lightly. “Well, I guess I don’t know what day it is. Who knows how long I was out..”

Out? **Dead.** That’s what he meant. He couldn’t get himself to say it though. 

Right now what he needed was a distraction from the swirl of emotions inside him. The control Pennywise had taken from him seemed so far away right now.

Richie glanced at the turtle without turning his head. “Let’s see.. bright orangey yellow spots, red eyes. You’re pretty small, too. My guess is that you’re an Eastern Box Turtle.” Richie scoffed. “Yeah. I’m surprised I remember that, too. But Eddie went through a turtle phase when we were kids. Learned every species that lived around here, could tell you which one was swimming around with just a glance. You’re pretty rare, aren’t you?”

The turtle stretched its neck out a little farther and blinked.

“Eddie was so obsessed with you guys that I made a plan to try and get one for him as a pet. Not that his mom would let him keep it, but I was sure I could convince my parents to let me keep it and then Eddie could come visit it whenever he wanted. But then Eds told me that taking turtles out of their natural habitat was wrong and I felt guilty for even thinking of it, so..”

Richie was chasing that light feeling he had when he first woke up. At first he thought that rambling about Eddie would do the trick, but all it did was make his hands shake.

 _“Shit. Shit shit shit—”_ His grip on Eddie’s hoodie tightened as he tried to get his hands to stop trembling. That hard reset his body had been given was coming back to bite him now. Everything was completely overwhelming. Every touch, every sound, every smell. But his emotions were the worst of it— even the slightest twinge of one amplified tenfold throughout his entire body and sent him reeling. He felt like he had no foundation, no solid ground, nowhere to stop and get his footing.

“Aw man little turtle, our relationship is speeding up fast. Usually I don’t let a guy see me cry until..” He groaned. “Well, never. I never let ‘em see me cry. You might be the most meaningful relationship I’ve ever had.” His words bled into laughter, and then he buried his face into the wet heap of clothing in his hands as the laughter turned to crying.

That was depressing, wasn’t it? If he didn’t switch subjects he would end up bearing his soul to a turtle, and he wasn’t about to do that.

“So, this ring—” Richie sat up suddenly, removing his face from the hoodie and moving his hands so the ring could be seen again. He sniffled, not bothering to dry his face, and then focused on the way the silver shined in the sun. “Why was it with me when I woke up..”

A realization hit him as he was speaking.

“This is Eddie’s wedding ring.”

Richie had no idea how he knew that. It was simple and boring, just a piece of metal. There were no unique markings, no engravings, nothing. But Richie just knew.

He twisted it around one more time and then his expression sharpened. Once he put the pieces together and figured out who it belonged to, Richie suddenly felt very.. possessive. It felt wrong to have it, but he wanted to keep it. It was a little piece of Eddie— a piece he seemingly didn’t want anymore— and Richie knew that there wasn’t any other part of him that he would get to keep completely for himself.

Call him selfish, call him strange, call him fucked up. Richie didn’t care this time.

Eddie had taken it off for a reason, but if there was one thing that Richie would not allow himself to have it was **hope.** He wasn’t taking this as an invitation or a sign or anything divine like that. The world had never been on his side before and he wasn’t about to believe that it had suddenly jumped ship and was rooting for him now. If it was rooting for him in any way, bringing him back to life was enough wasn’t it? Because he certainly hadn’t asked for that. This ring was just.. an apology note. A little _sorry for that, this is best I can do._ A little memento he could carry around and keep for himself.

Richie would take it. And he wouldn’t complain. He had missed his chance to confess and now it was his job to live with the consequences— something he hadn’t anticipated needing to do. But hey, he could adapt.

“Hm. I wonder what you’re up to, Eds..” He wasn’t talking to the turtle anymore. The focus was back on himself and the trepidatious mood he was in. Back at the Jade he had poked fun at Eddie’s marriage for all the wrong reasons, but sue him— he was more than curious about what was going through Eddie’s head now that he didn’t have his ring anymore.

Richie then snuck in a look at the turtle with his eyebrows raised. “Don’t judge.” _I’m a gay man in love with my best friend who will never love me back. I deserve to keep his ring, don’t I?_

The turtle was looking at him now, but still had nothing to say.

“You think I should go find my friends, don’t you?”

Richie was trying to think about what he needed to do next, and it felt like the entire world was waiting for him to decide. He distracted himself for a moment by trying to slip on Eddie’s ring— not surprisingly, it was too small. The way it got caught on his ring finger made him smile, his bottom lip quivering.

“They’re probably long gone by now. Maybe I should just head back to L.A.” Richie pulled the ring off of his finger and pocketed it. “Or should I look for them first?”

He hoped the turtle would say _‘Just go home, Richie. They don’t need you anymore.’_ If the turtle was the only thing left that could give him permission to leave, he would take it.

The turtle blinked, and somehow it made Richie feel guilty. He set his jaw and let out a frustrated huff of air. Permission denied. “Fine. I’ll go try to find them.” As soon as he said it, his stomach twisted into knots. He thought maybe he would throw up, but he didn’t.

Close call.

He got to his feet after his stomach settled, turned to the turtle, and then tipped his imaginary hat. “Ta-ta my good friend. May we meet under better circumstances.”

Through the sounds of his shoes on the gravel Richie swore he could hear Eddie laughing— the kind of laugh he had when he was 14 as he fought to snuff it out. He always pretended to not be a fan of the British accent but Richie always tried and tried and tried to make Eddie laugh anyway. 

Eddie’s laugh was his favorite sound in the world.

_Shut up shut up shut up._

Richie gave himself a light smack to the head and then hurried away, wishing he could take another underground nap for a few years.

***

Here were the facts that Richie could come up with:

1) He had died. He couldn’t quite remember it, but it must have happened.  
2) He woke up seemingly fine with a giant scar, a few things of Eddie’s, and one thing of his own.  
3) His friends thought he was dead. They won’t be looking for him, so that meant it was up to him to look for _them._

Richie was repeating those things to himself over and over again, muttering to himself a bit as he did, face pained and tense. He did _not_ like the fact that whatever reunion between him and the Losers would eventually happen was completely up to him. Too much responsibility on his shoulders, too much emotional weight, too much of everything. But it would have been wrong to not try. Right?

The most logical place Richie could think to go was exactly the place he never wanted to go again. He had escaped it via some miracle he still had no idea had to process, which meant he wasn’t processing it at all— that’s probably why he was able to make the trek there without hightailing away and speedrunning to the airport. Just repeat the facts, repeat the facts, repeat the facts...

He was mostly dried off by the time he got there. Which, all things considered, was pretty nice.

Such a silly thing to be thankful for, considering that he got the nervous sweats the second he noticed the house was.. gone.

“Holy.. _SHIT.”_

Alright, so a small part of him was ready to jump in the air with glee. Another part of him was ready to cry with relief. There was something so satisfying about seeing the Neibolt house completely decimated.

Richie wanted to run the rest of the way there but held himself back. He wanted to scream every profane word he could think of. He wanted to let the emptiness know that he was so fucking glad he was out here instead of buried beneath it all. But strangely enough, he did not have the energy to gloat.

When he made it to the edge of the fence, he was struck with a sense of awe and paused with one hand on a post to take it all in. The scraggly grass was the same. Everything outside the perimeter of the house looked untouched, perfectly preserved in a way that seemed like it would stay like that forever. The house itself was reduced to a messy pile of old wood and nails that didn’t reach much higher than ground level. Richie knew what was hiding underneath it, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t scared of it.

He wondered about his friends and if they made it out before it completely caved in. He wondered if Pennywise had managed to escape again. 

No one was there to ease his worries or give him the answers, but he had a feeling that they were all okay and that they finally killed it. Because his friends were kickass, amazing people and would have found a way to get it done. _They made it out alive._ He just had to find them.

 _Did he want to find them?_ He yet again forced himself to chase that thought away with a shake of his head. But the feeling of relief that came with it lingered for a moment, which only made him feel worse.

He noticed the array of footprints that were still pressed into the dirt path leading up to the house. It felt wrong to disturb them, so Richie made sure to walk only on the grass off to the side, slow and careful.

There were different sets mixed around and layered on top of each other, ones that Richie could only guess were of the rest of the Losers. Hell, his own footprints were even down there somewhere. But that’s not what he was looking for right now.

His gaze was drawn to one set in particular, almost perfectly parallel and facing the house right in the center of the path where it ended. When he had walked as far as he could go, Richie paused to stare at the rubble, eyes dancing around the mess of wood and searching for gaps to gauge how far he could see down. 

Richie stayed like that for a minute, face tense as his mind wandered down its own path. His focus switched between the footprints and the house until finally he moved to put himself in the exact same spot as whoever had been there last.

What had they been looking at? Why had they even bothered to look down? If Richie was right, there was nothing left to find. Except..

 _Me?_ Richie’s stomach twisted into knots when he remembered that they had been forced to leave him down there. He wasn’t angry. He wouldn’t have wanted them to risk their lives to save him when he was already so far gone. 

But now, standing on the edge of it all, Richie felt dizzy. This was supposed to have been his grave, his place of rest. Whoever it was that had stood here last was basically standing next to his headstone. 

HERE LIES RICHIE TOZIER: GONE AND DEFINITELY FORGOTTEN 

_“Time to go.”_ That dizzy feeling escalated and he was afraid of falling through the cracks in the foundation, just to end up right back where he was before.

When he made it back to the street, there was a surprise waiting for him.

“I.. didn’t drive here.” Richie stopped dead in his tracks and pointed a hesitant finger at the bright red rental car parked about fifty feet away. His facial expressions went through a journey as he tried to recall who had driven him here— it had been Eddie. Richie’s car shouldn’t have been here at all. 

So what the hell was it doing here now?

His steps towards it were wide and slow, like there was going to be something waiting for him when he got there— a last ditch jump scare, one of Bowers’ goons, something. But, to his surprise, there was nothing. It was even unlocked, and after he got behind the steering wheel and tossed Eddie’s hoodie into the passenger seat he noticed his phone and wallet sitting in the cup holder.

Richie didn’t like how easy any of this was. He couldn’t fathom why it felt like the universe was giving him things to make all of this easier. It made.. no sense.

But, a car was a car. And he needed a way to get around. He was sick of walking.

As he drove away from the Neibolt house, Richie couldn’t get his conversation with the turtle out of his head. Did he _want_ to find his friends? Yes and no. At the moment, it felt like it was more something he was required to do rather than something he wanted. And Richie had no idea what he _actually_ wanted right now. He had no idea what he should be doing, what would make him feel better, what he was brought back for. Nothing.

So he picked one thing and he stuck with it: to try and find his friends. The amount of energy he had allotted to help him focus was funneled completely into that.

He checked the inn first, but when he drove by he didn’t see any cars. His nerves told him to not bother checking inside and instead told him to stay in the safety of his car. He could keep checking other places.

The only other location he could think of was the library, and boy did he _hate_ the idea of going back there. 

What a lovely time to remember that he was technically an axe murderer.

He felt like some poorly written character in a shitty movie. Because seriously, who did this happen to? Who goes twenty years without his best friends, forgets who they are, goes back home one day thinking it was going to be all laughs and Chinese food only for it to be death and misery and murder and blood and fucking _clowns—_

Richie came to a stop at a red light and let his head fall forward to the steering wheel for as long as he could. If Eddie was the hero of this story, then _what the fuck did that make him?_

The light turned green and the person behind him honked.

Nope. _Not a story,_ he reminded himself again. This was real, as much as he fucking wished it wasn’t. Reality was the only thing that could be this inherently mundane while also being too insane to describe.

Good thing he didn’t have a therapist— whichever poor soul got stuck with him would end up traumatized _themselves_ after Richie had his time to shine.

He blinked, and suddenly he was halfway across town.

Richie slowed down and started glancing through the cars in front of the library. From what he could tell, everyone was there. 

Alright, so all of his friends were hanging out together in the building where he killed a guy. Cool. Great. That’s exactly what he wanted. He was totally cool with walking in there like nothing had happened. Yup.

Pros: That meant they were alive, just like he thought.

Cons: That meant Richie would have to face all of them at once.

 _“Hey! Move it asshole!”_

A different car had appeared behind him while he had been staring stupidly at the library, and its driver was not pleased. Richie glanced to his new friend while being violently honked at, feeling his heart start to pound in his chest.

After he managed to pull off to the side the guy behind him zoomed passed, giving Richie the finger along the way.

 _“Fuck.”_ He was getting pretty sick of this extreme panic thing. Thinking about walking through the doors into the library made walking into the Jade seem easy by comparison. 

“This is so fucking stupid.” Richie muttered to himself, his voice at a harsh whisper and his knuckles turning white as he kept them clamped onto the steering wheel. “Just go in! Just get up, and go in. It’s not that hard.”

Then he had another thought: maybe he should call Mike first.

Mike’s number was in his call history, right? Richie couldn’t believe the group hadn’t exchanged numbers before they got caught up in all the Pennywise shit, but they had all been running on panic and adrenaline for over a day. They weren’t really in their right minds before the big fight.

Richie picked up his phone, his hands shaking violently, and tried to get to his call history.

That never happened.

“Oh, shi—”

By some stroke of luck, Richie managed to open his door fast enough so that he didn’t puke all over the inside of his car. There wasn’t much to expel but his stomach made it happen, and it happened all over the pavement.

He stayed there trying to catch his breath, folded over with one hand on the door of his car and one hand pressed over his stomach. As if he needed another reason to feel like shit— this just made all of that _even better._

With all the grace he could manage for someone who had just thrown up, Richie wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then shifted back into his seat. Once the door was closed he let his head fall back against the leather covered cushion and was left alone with the sound of his heavy breathing.

All of _that_ was just because he tried to call Mike. There was a giant STOP sign flashing in his head whenever he thought about trying again— maybe because the last time they talked on the phone he was dragged into this bullshit. The last time Mike called, it had all ended with them running for their lives and Richie dying.

Realistically he knew that this phone call would be way different, but that didn’t convince the part of him that was stuck permanently in flight mode. Richie had no more fight left in him, and his entire body was screaming at him to just run, _run,_ **RUN.**

All he wanted to do was curl up in the backseat and cry until he couldn’t anymore. He felt like a kicked puppy— hurt, tailed tucked between his legs, not sure where he could go to feel safe again.

The _second chance_ that had dropped right into his lap seemed like way too much to handle. He was already fucking it up. Hell, he had fucked up his first life well enough, why was he even surprised?

Richie Tozier was a name that many knew, but no one really _knew_ him. He could handle himself. He could take care of himself. He did everything himself. 

Everything.

And for a short moment, something sparked in him and there was a whisper in his mind saying _go to them, Richie. You need them. For once in your life don’t be stupid._

Maybe he did need them. He could admit that to himself. But that little spark was snuffed out by that big, scary, teeth-bared part of him that warned him— _they don’t need you._

This town brought out the worst of him. His fear was like a tiger with a few thorns stuck in its paw. Always hurt, always aching, always terrified and ready to lash out if someone got to close. And ever since he entered Derry, Richie had felt like there were people with pointy sticks waiting for him behind every corner, ready to take a jab at him when he was already down.

It was so much easier to cry and run into the shadows than it was to be brave and walk on paws full of thorns. Lonelier? Yes. But familiar.

Richie was silently crying when he took one last look at the library behind him.

When he pulled away and started down the road, he didn’t care where he was headed. The only thing that mattered was getting out of Derry as fast as he could. He could figure out the rest later. 

The drive was hypnotic. He stayed on the same road for as long as he was allowed, twisting and turning and stopping and going and realizing after an hour that he had experienced the whole thing outside of himself. It was like his body had said _**ENOUGH!**_ and decided it was time to turn off— no feelings, no thoughts, no memory of the last 63 minutes he had spent behind the wheel.

When he noticed the time he decided to pull into the gas station he was approaching. Reality slowly began leaking into his system once he turned the car off.

The quiet was like a blanket Richie wished he could wrap himself up in. It was oddly calming to know that he had no idea where he was. It meant he could exist in his loneliness without any expectations being thrown his way. He could be imperfect, broken pieces trying to exist as a whole, and didn’t have to feel guilty about it. All he needed was a few minutes to catch his breath.

Derry was behind him, and he tried to ignore the underlying pull he felt to go back.

Cut the ties. Don’t look back. Time to go home.

Home. California. Not Maine.

When he unlocked his phone to start looking for flights, Richie realized that it was in fact almost 24 hours since he had died. He had missed a nice chunk of time— in the long run, it didn’t matter in the slightest. But it was a fact he filed away nonetheless.

The earliest flight he could find left in 5 hours. He booked it, let out a sigh, and then figured out what he needed to do next.

He blinked, and he was inside a store looking for new clothes. A Target, he thought? He paused for a moment to look around him but in the end he didn’t care where he was. What he cared about was the fact that he smelled like mildew, and he was about to jump on a plane in a few hours.

It pained him to not buy the brightly colored floral shirt he first spotted, but he managed to stifle his fashion sense and buy something pretty plain. Plus a hoodie, since Eddie’s was smelly and far too small.

He blinked again and he was dropping off his rental car.

He blinked again and he was finishing up in the security line at the airport carrying only four things: his wallet, his phone, Eddie’s hoodie, and Eddie’s ring.

Everything else he originally brought with him still sat in his room back at the inn. Richie didn’t care. He could get new clothes, a new toothbrush, a new everything.

As he boarded the plane he was tired and longing for the familiarity of the west coast. There was nothing special waiting for him there other than a big bed and a mostly empty fridge, but he was aching for it anyway. Everything there was _his._ Maybe he could scavenge for little clues and begin to put himself back together from the ground up. It was worth a shot, at least.

“Hey, are you Richie Tozier?”

Richie blinked again and he was buckling his seatbelt as a very excited fan stood next to him in the aisle. The young man was smiling from ear to ear, clutching his phone in front of him, and almost visibly vibrating like he was holding himself back from breaking out into a full length dance routine.

“Uh—” Richie swallowed and then cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Oh my god, I’m a huge fan!” The guy was attempting to whisper, Richie could tell. But his efforts ran short.

“Do you want like, an autograph or something?”

“Can we take a selfie?” The question came at him at lightning speed. 

“Listen.. normally I would say yes but—” But what? _Could he say that he was on his way home after spending two days in the homophobic town he grew up in that secretly held a shapeshifting alien in the sewers for thousands of years, and then that alien went out with a bang but not before killing him first?_ Could he say that? 

_“Pleaseeee, please please please?”_ The guy was relentless.

 _ **“No!”**_ Richie snapped at him, and then immediately felt bad. “Just. No— sorry.”

The exchange ended there, and Richie wanted nothing more than the sink so far into his chair that he disappeared completely.

There was a paranoid feeling he couldn’t get rid of the entire time he was on board— a feeling that everyone was staring at him, judging him, convincing each other that he was the worst person in the world.

If they ever confronted him about it, he wouldn’t have anything to say that would prove them wrong.

That night, Richie arrived in California feeling emptier than he had ever thought was possible. His second chance was off to a _great start._

***

Across the country, in a hospital near the city of Atlanta, a phone call was placed to Patricia Blum-Uris just as Richie Tozier was boarding his flight back to California. It would become the single most shocking phone call she had ever received, even if she did think it was a horrible prank at first.

After some yelling, some sobbing, and a whole lot of convincing from the nurse on the other end of the line she got in her car and drove there as fast as she could.

Stanley Uris was back from the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... thoughts on richie's decision?? how's that ending sitting with you?
> 
> sorry this was another rough chapter everyone, thanks for sticking with it!!
> 
> next week we check back in with eddie


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